Second Chances: Book Two in the Rivertown Romance Series

By Denise Gwen

In this charming and heartwarming romance, Helena Roethlisberger, a high-powered Washington insider, has been sent back to Marietta, a sleepy river-town on the banks of the Ohio, to set up a headquarters for her senator boss. But when she runs into the guy who took her to the senior prom, Ben Nardi, her one true love, she begins to wonder if perhaps she didn’t make a mistake when she kicked the dust of Marietta from her heels sixteen years earlier? Because, on the fateful night when Ben told her he loved her, something happened between them that would change their lives forever after.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Denise Gwen
• Release date: Jul 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005263102

Denise Gwen

Denise Gwen writes!!!

Book preview

One

It’ll be there, I promise you, Helena Roethlisberger, senior law clerk to Senator Henry Walker, said to the distraught bride. Your passport will indeed arrive on time for your Caribbean wedding.

Thank you, the bride said, and sniffed. I really want to get married on the beach.

Senator Walker’s working with the State Department on the issue.

If you’re sure . . .

Now, let me take down your information, and I’ll make sure to call you when the State Department works through its log-jam.

Okay.

Five minutes later, Helena finished taking down all the pertinent information she needed. She thanked the bride one last time, then rang off. In the hallway outside the Senator’s office, her ears pricked up at the sound of raucous laughter. Some kind of get-together. Curious, she stood up from behind her desk, smoothed down her skirt, and nodded at Josie, the Senator’s long-standing secretary.

Josie, I’ll be back in a few minutes.

Sure thing, kiddo.

She eased down the elegantly-appointed hallway of the Dirksen Senate Office Building to the reception area. For as long as Helena could remember, this common area had always been the true hub of the Senate. Anytime a big announcement was made, be it of national import or of purely personal interest—a retirement, a promotion, or if staffers simply felt like breaking open a bottle of bubbly—it happened here, in reception. Today proved to be no exception. A big crowd had convened, and Helena couldn’t see who formed the center of the party, but she sensed a happy occasion.

Congratulations, sweetheart, a woman called out over the hubbub.

Ah, she recognized the voice. Sherri Walker, Senator Walker’s wife. Sherri used to be a regular fixture at the Dirksen Senate Office Building, at least until last year, when she received her diagnosis of breast cancer. Poor Sherri had just endured the worst year of her life, and Helena hoped and prayed this year would be a better one for her. At first, the doctors planned to perform only a lumpectomy of her left breast, but once she went under the anesthesia and they found the lump, they discovered the cancer had already spread to her right breast and lymph nodes. They removed the lump in the left breast, told her in post-recovery the bad news. Two weeks later, she underwent a double mastectomy and the removal of all her lymph nodes.

Helena slid into the crowd, her sites locked on Sherri, and eased up to the front. She caught sight of Anne Marie Walker, Senator Walker’s eldest, and started with surprise. Little Annie?

I can’t get over how big it is, Anne Marie exclaimed, tears in her eyes. She held out her left hand and there, on the fourth finger, glittered a huge diamond in a lovely baguette setting. The durn thing sparkled with a blue fire.

Sherri caught Helena’s eye and waved. Look at this thing, will you?

Annie, Helena said. When did you get engaged?

This morning. Anne Marie’s lips trembled. She appeared to be caught between tears of sorrow and joy. Richard called me up, said he had something important to tell me.

You fell for that old trick, Sherri joked, and everyone laughed.

What girl wouldn’t want to be tricked like that, Helena said, gazing at the ring. Holy cow, how many carats was that thing? At least three. Richard went to a tremendous amount of expense to surprise his fiancée, and, judging from Annie’s reaction, he’d succeeded.

May I see your ring up close? Helena asked.

It’s blinding me, Sherri said, and laughed.

Oh, of course, Helena. Anne Marie stepped forward and placed her outstretched hand in Helena’s. The crowd pressed in around them to ooh and ah over the ring. Helena held Annie’s hand and tilted the girl’s hand this way and that, marveling at the way the diamonds sparkled under the glow of the chandeliers.

It’s three carats, Anne Marie offered, abashed. The center diamond is two carats, and the baguette-cut stones are one.

Goodness, gracious, Sherri said, and smiled. Henry only gave me a one-carat engagement ring.

Yeah, Mom, Anne Marie drawled, but he more than made up for it later.

Everyone laughed.

What a beautiful ring, Helena cooed, releasing Annie’s hand.

We’ve only known each other for a year. I didn’t expect this, I had no idea. Anne Marie burst into tears.

The women surged forward with a protective cry and Helena allowed herself to be swept to the back of the crowd. She glanced around and caught Sherri’s eye.

Wow, Helena said under her breath. Getting married, and so young, too. Looks like her dream of back-packing through Ireland this summer is over.

Our dreams do change, Sherri pointed out, as we grow older.

Helena winced. Sadly, yes. But she’s so young.

Yes, dear. I know. Sherri watched her daughter a moment. "She is twenty-five, though, and a college grad."

Oh, I know, I know, Helena said with a negligent wave of her hand. But you know what I mean. I met Anne Marie when I worked on the Senator’s first campaign.

Children, Sherri said with a smile, grow up right before our eyes and we still don’t see how fast they turn into adults.

Helena shook her head. There are times, when I wonder how in the world I managed with a baby. She glanced at Sherri. If it hadn’t been for your help—

You’re a terrific mother, Sherri said, patting her hand. And Carrie’s a fine, lovely girl.

I’ve always worried— Helena pushed back the lump in her throat —I’d ruin Carrie’s chances of a happy life if I raised her alone, as a single mother.

Your mother raised you as a single mother, Sherri pointed out, and look how well you turned out.

Helena grinned wryly. You’re assuming people would agree with you and say I turned out well.

You know, Sherri said slowly, I never did ask you . . . I know it’s completely none of my business, but whatever happened to the baby daddy?

Helena hesitated. It was nosy of Sherri to ask, but in the past year, they’d grown so close, what really surprised Helena was how long it’d taken Sherri to ask this particular question. When you rub a friend’s back as she vomits into a spit-up bowl or pick up clumps of falling-out hair from the floor, well, certain intimacies do develop.

He’s alive, Helena said. He married the girl who broke up with him the day before prom.

And you went to prom with him?

Yes. Helena chuckled. Once his ex-girlfriend saw how fast he rebounded, she changed her mind over breaking up with him. She shrugged. He made her wait, though. I think he wondered if I wanted him.

Why didn’t you marry him?

I thought, if I told him I was pregnant, he’d marry me the next minute. But I didn’t want him marrying me just because I was pregnant.

Hm, Sherri said. But you did love him?

Yes.

A silence. Helena felt suddenly, absurdly, on the verge of tears. She cleared her throat. In a lighter voice, she said, Last time I bothered to look at my high-school alumni newsletter, I saw a brief mention of him.

How’s he doing?

Oh, happily married, with a daughter.

A daughter, did you say?

Their daughter must be fourteen by now.

Helena cut her gaze away. She sensed Sherri studying her. She inhaled inwardly and let her breath out slowly. She knew exactly what Sherri wanted to ask.

And she did.

And you say, Sherri ventured tentatively, he’s never learned of Carrie?

Helena hung her head, shamefaced. I know it isn’t something you’d do, Sherri, but by the time I found out I was pregnant—well, he’d already married this other girl—and I couldn’t bear the thought of staying trapped in Marietta and raising Carrie with him.

Not even a note, or a letter?

Nope. Helena stuck her chin out defiantly. When I went through college, and then law school, if it weren’t for you and the Senator, I don’t know what I would’ve done.

Wouldn’t it have helped to have him around?

Sherri, don’t you get it? Helena flashed out with a sudden burst of irritation. "This guy’s never been outside Ohio. He never would’ve moved to Washington to be with me."

Not even for his daughter?

Helena gazed at Sherri, waves of frustration filling her heart. "Sherri, he dumped me. He dumped me and went back to his lame girlfriend."

But their daughter wasn’t born until two years later. Wouldn’t he have broken up with her if he’d known you were carrying his child?

Sherri, Helena said evenly, why are you prying so much?

Sherri bowed her head. Honey, I’m so sorry. I’m upsetting you.

"You’re making me out to be incredibly selfish, but you don’t get it, Sherri. He dumped me. He didn’t want me. And I didn’t want him if he didn’t want me."

Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’m afraid, over the course of the past year, I’ve lost all my filters. I say whatever darts into my head without thinking.

Helena dashed the tears off her cheeks. It’s okay.

Did Carrie ever ask after her father?

She has, Helena admitted reluctantly. A few times.

Helena opened her mouth to say something else, then closed it. Best not to say another word.

After a long moment, and with a tiny sigh, Sherri finally, and mercifully, turned away to watch the bubble of excitement centered on her daughter. Helena closed her eyes. She started when she sensed someone reaching for her fingers. Sherri. Without speaking, Sherri took Helena’s hand in hers and squeezed. Helena fought back the tears brimming behind her eyelids. What could she say? Yes, of course she’d experienced regrets. She awoke every morning with regrets. What if she’d told him she was pregnant? What if he’d married her instead?

But what kind of an existence would they have lived? Not a very good one, she suspected. He never would’ve agreed to move to Washington, D.C. No, she seriously doubted it. She’d stay trapped in Marietta. She would’ve attended school at Marietta College. And then, well, would he have let her attend law school? A guy like him? Oh, he might’ve let her go to law school, but she’d be commuting back and forth from Marietta to Capital Law School in Columbus, Ohio, every single day, and the trip to Columbus took at least two hours. She couldn’t even begin to imagine it.

Come on, Helena. Fess up. You were in love with him. You would’ve made it work. But living in Marietta, the backwater on the Ohio for the rest of your life? No way.

And yet, and yet. A father would’ve been there to watch Carrie while Helena attended her classes. And when Carrie got sick, there would’ve been someone there to stay home with the baby.

With bitterness in her voice, she said, Not everyone’s willing to settle for the house in the suburbs and the white-picket fence. Me, I couldn’t wait to escape the provincial life. I thought if I stayed one more day in Marietta, I’d suffocate.

Honey, Sherri said in a creamy voice, I’m happy Annie’s getting married. I may see my first grandchild before I die.

Helena instantly regretted every word she’d uttered. How callous, how unfeeling of her to carry on like this when Sherri was getting the rare opportunity to share in a joyous occasion with her only daughter, the moment when a nice young man asks her to marry him.

Don’t worry, Sherri said. One day, you’ll get your turn. Some nice young man will fall in love with you and ask you to marry him.

Says you, Helena rejoined, but gently, so as not to give offense. Sherri, you do realize I’m not a girl of twenty-five anymore? I had a chance at getting married, back when I was eighteen, but I let it slip away from me.

Honey, come here, Sherri said as she opened her arms and Helena moved to embrace her. She buried her head in Sherri’s chest, noting, but not speaking, as she sensed the void, the place where Sherri’s breasts used to be, and where now only ragged scars remained. She knew of the scars; she was on an intimate basis with her dear friend’s wounds. An ugly thing, these scars, the violation upon her dear friend’s body.

It’s my thing, don’t you know? Sherri joked in a trembling voice. I want to see all my women friends happily married.

I know, Sherri, Helena whispered into her shoulder, I know.

You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, Helena, Sherri said. Don’t forget that.

I know, Helena agreed. I know, Sherri.

Mom, Anne Marie called out. Come over here. One of the girls wants me to use the caterer who did her sister’s wedding.

Duty calls, Sherri said dryly. See you later. She released Helena and walked back into the crowd. Laughter followed. Helena overheard snatches of conversation, but she’d lost interest. She drifted away from the crowd and wandered back to her office. Loads of work to do, better get cracking. One of her big dreams—her biggest by far—to discuss with Senator Walker her chances at running for a congressional seat in the Sixteenth Congressional District of Ohio. She’d heard through the grapevine that Rob Latham, the incumbent, planned to retire next year and wouldn’t run for re-election. His retirement would leave a vacancy, and Helena had decided she wanted it.

The only problem . . . Was she dreaming too big?

Two

Hey, Ben, you wanna head out, grab a beer?

Ben Nardi turned to gaze at Chip McIntyre, his young assistant. They’d been working hard at the construction site all day long in Belpre, a small town just outside of Marietta, and Ben could sure use a beer. He longed to slake his thirst, but if he went out with Chip, he’d never make it to his sister’s house on time for dinner. He pulled off his baseball cap, ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

You can’t, Chip said flatly.

No, Ben said. Sorry. My sister wigs out if she smells beer on my breath.

She doesn’t let you drink beer? Chip asked, aghast.

No, it’s not that. Her husband’s been clean and sober for three years now, and she doesn’t want to jinx his good record. She thinks if I walk into the house with beer on my breath, Carl will run to the nearest bar. He shrugged. He wouldn’t do that, even if I showed up with a six-pack, but I like Carl and I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Fair enough. Chip loped toward his fire-engine red mustang. See ya tomorrow?

Don’t forget, Ben reminded him, we’re up in Marietta, tomorrow. At the Judge’s house.

Oh yeah, that’s right. The house on Front Street?

Yep. Eight o’clock sharp.

Okay, see you then. Chip jumped behind the wheel, gunned the engine, and tore out of the parking lot in a cloud of dust and gravel.

Ben tossed the last of his tools into the bed of his battered F-250 pickup truck, started the engine, and drove out of Belpre, heading north on Highway Seven to Vienna to his sister’s house. She lived in a snug little home, but the backyard had proven to be the real attraction; it boasted an amazing view of the Ohio River. Stephanie was just one of those amazingly fortunate people for whom life had worked out seamlessly. Like Ben, who got married right out of high school, Stephanie had married Carl Waterman, her high school sweetheart, but unlike Ben, her marriage had stayed the course.

He turned off the highway, drove into Vienna. A few minutes later he parked the truck in his sister’s gravel driveway. Ostensibly, his stated purpose in wanting to see his sister was so he could collect a stack of old newspapers for a job he was starting tomorrow. Judge Paul Carnaharn had hired him to renovate the house he’d inherited from his mother. The Judge planned on modernizing and freshening up the house before putting it on the market, and Ben needed newspapers to spread out across the lovely parquet flooring, which both he and the Judge deemed too valuable to rip out of the kitchen. In the interest of keeping his life as simple and as inexpensive as possible, he had yet to take out a subscription to The Marietta Times. A recent transplant from Columbus, Ohio, Ben had re-acquainted himself with his old hometown in the past year, but he’d not yet fully immersed himself back into the life he’d left behind, sixteen years earlier.

He jumped out of the truck, hurried up the sidewalk and knocked on the door. He chuckled as his sister’s dog Max, an Alaskan malamute, flung his body against the door, barking like a mad thing.

Uncle Ben, high-pitched voices cried out, and his grin widened.

Between the cacophony of the dog barking, and the nine-year-old twins howling, Ben knew he’d been noticed. The door flew open, and Ben met the gaze of his sister’s husband, Carl. Hey, Carl, Ben said.

Hey, Ben. Good to see you. Carl pulled the door back to let Ben enter. As Ben walked into the house, two pairs of arms wrapped themselves around his knees.

Uncle Ben, Uncle Ben, the twins cried. You’re here.

Yep, Ben said, I sure am.

Where’s Chloé? Terra asked. Why isn’t Chloé here?

A lancing of pain pierced Ben’s heart.

Silly, Troy retorted. Chloé lives in Columbus with her mommy.

Terra looked up at Ben with indignation. But why isn’t she living with you, Uncle Ben?

Don’t you remember, sweetheart? Ben asked.

No, what? Terra asked.

I wanted Chloé to live with her mother in the house we bought after we got married, Ben said simply, straining to keep the tension out of his voice. I wanted her to be comfortable and live in the house she grew up in.

Oh, Terra said. So, when are we gonna see her again?

This weekend, Ben promised. And I’ll bring her over for a visit, okay?

Sure, Terra said, but she didn’t look too convinced. Ben couldn’t blame her. He didn’t like the fact his daughter didn’t figure into his day-to-day life any more than her cousin did. But divorce being what it was—the breakup of a marriage—he’d made the hard decision, one favoring his daughter. A hard decision, because he’d given up his family home and all the equity in it. He agreed in the divorce settlement to let his wife keep the house. Chloé would finish out her high-school years in the same house she’d been living in since the day she came home from the hospital.

Okay, kids, Carl said. Go wash your hands. Dinner’s ready.

Carl helped Ben to extricate the children’s wiry arms from around his legs, and as the kids scampered off to the bathroom, Ben sauntered into the kitchen. Stephanie pulled a roast from the oven as he slid up to the sink. Geez, Sis, Ben mock-complained as he rolled up his sleeves, you’re gonna get me fat if I keep eating your home-cooked meals.

Says you, Stephanie retorted. That durn wife of yours didn’t feed you hardly enough.

Ben closed his eyes and inhaled the mouth-watering aroma of the savory roast. God, that smells good.

It’s good eating, Stephanie said, and smiled. She carried the roast out to the dining room and called over her shoulder. Grab the potatoes, will ya, Ben?

Sure thing, Sis. He washed his hands, dried them on a dishtowel, grabbed the bowl of potatoes, and followed his sister into the dining room. The entire family assembled and sat down.

Take hands, Stephanie commanded, and once they’d all taken hands, she uttered a mercifully brief prayer, and they dug into their meal.

Ben took a bite of his sister’s roast, closed his eyes, and tears swam behind his eyelids. It was all he could do to control his emotions. He so didn’t want to weep at his sister’s table, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever eaten such a delicious meal. For sure, Marge had never cooked for him. Well, she’d cooked, but nothing like this.

He realized there was a stultifying silence at the table and opened his eyes. The twins gazed at him with deep, worried frowns. He forced a smile and playfully tossed a pea from his plate at each of them.

Hey, Uncle Ben, Terra protested. Mommy, Uncle Ben’s throwing food at me.

Uh, huh, Stephanie said, pretending not to see. Tell me another wild tale, will ya, Terra?

Mommy, I’m not fibbing. Uncle Ben threw a pea at me.

That’s enough, Terra.

Troy winked at Ben, a wise, ‘Terra may be a fool, but I’m in on the joke with you, Uncle Ben,’ kind of look.

Okay, kids, Carl said. Eat your dinner.

An uneasy peace descended over the table. Ben caught Stephanie’s eye, and she flashed him a look of love. It bolstered his spirits. His sister’s kindness meant so much to him. He belonged here, with his sister and her family, but a sad, secret part of him wished he had his own family back. He missed Chloé. He missed the life he and Marge had made together. He missed his old life.

All right, that’s enough. Stop wallowing. Try to look happy, even if you aren’t.

Everything was fine. He was going to get through this.

I’ll get through this.

He had to. He had no choice.

Three

The twins excused themselves from the table, Stephanie brought out a peach cobbler, set it down on the table, and scooped out a generous serving to the adults. Ben finished off the last bit of crust, tossed his napkin on top of the plate and sat back with a satisfied sigh.

It’s a wonder to me, sometimes, Stephanie said, how you stuck that marriage out as long as you did.

Ben winced. It’s a wonder to me too, Sis.

How long have you been here? Carl asked. In Marietta?

Six months.

Wow, Carl said. Time sure flies, don’t it?

It does, Ben agreed. There are days when I can’t quite believe it, either.

When did you buy that building out on the corner of Putnam and Seventh? Stephanie asked. Didn’t you close on it just a few weeks ago?

No, Sis. I bought it four months ago.

Really?

Yes, and I’m up to my eyeballs in a mortgage I’ll pay off a few days before I turn seventy.

And you’re running your business out of it? She asked.

Yep. Business is good, too.

Really? Stephanie asked. Even with the economy tanking?

Ben laughed uneasily. Actually, I hate to admit it, but thanks to the struggling economy, I bought that place at a really low price.

It’s not your fault someone got foreclosed on, Carl said.

I know, but how I managed to qualify for a mortgage is beyond me.

God was looking down on you, Ben, Stephanie said.

After all the horrors I’ve been through in the past year, I guess someone’s finally looking out for me, Ben admitted. I may make something of myself after all.

"You are something, Ben," Stephanie said, with quiet meaning.

Hah, Ben said lightly. Try telling my ex that.

Another uneasy silence.

You two got married right after high school graduation, Stephanie said. You were young. She looked to Carl for encouragement. You just grew apart.

You and Carl got married right out of high school, Ben pointed out, and you’re still doing fine. My marriage would’ve been just fine too if my wife hadn’t decided to have an affair.

Ben, Stephanie said.

It’s okay, he said abruptly. Let’s just stop talking about it, okay?

His thoughts drifted. He’d spent the first few weeks after the divorce on his sister’s couch. When the financing came through, he bought himself a cheap little trailer on five acres, just outside of Beverly, but he put his real investment where it really mattered, into the empty storefront building at the corner of Putnam and Seventh, where he installed his cabinet-making and contractor business. He was busy. If only he could focus on work, he’d be good.

Hey, let me get those newspapers for you, Carl offered. He got up from the table and walked into the study.

Oh, hey, Carl, Ben called out, don’t bother. I’ll get them on my way out.

Stephanie gazed at him from over the rim of her coffee cup. Marge cleaned you out good.

Yeah, Sis, she did, but I did it for Chloé’s sake, more than for Marge. A knot formed in his belly. Stephanie meant well, she really did, but she had a tendency to drive topics into the ground. Look, can we not talk about it?

Sure.

Carl staggered back into the room, heaving a huge stack of newspapers. Hope you can use all these, he said, dropping the stack onto the dining table.

Carl, Stephanie protested. Put them in a bag, honey.

Oh, sorry. Carl reached for the stack, but Ben put a restraining hand on his brother-in-law’s arm.

Hang on, there, Ben said. He plucked a full-page article from the Lifestyle Section off the top of the stack and showed it to his sister. Did you see this?

I haven’t had time to read anything lately, Stephanie said, ever since I started back at night school. What is it?

It’s an article about Helena Roethlisberger.

What? Let me see that.

Here. Ben handed the section of the paper over to her. It’s a big, full-page article all about her.

For some curious reason, he didn’t want to read the article, but he wanted someone to tell him what it said.

Stephanie snapped the page open and studied it. Well, I’ll be darned. I’d forgotten all about her.

Carl sat back down. Why does that name sound familiar?

She went to high school with us, Stephanie said. Actually, she was in Ben’s graduating class. I was two years behind.

Did I see a mention about Capitol Hill? Ben asked. He stood up and walked around the table to peer over his sister’s shoulder.

It says here, Stephanie said, right after Helena graduated from Marietta High School, she moved immediately to Georgetown.

Georgetown, Ohio? Carl asked.

No, honey, Stephanie said. Georgetown University, in Washington, D.C.

Oh, Carl said.

It says here, she went to Georgetown Law School, Stephanie said.

Wow, that’s impressive, Ben said. Even he, rube he may be, knew of Georgetown Law School.

Stephanie glanced up at him. Didn’t you two date in high school?

A frisson of tension shot through him. "We were friends in high school."

Although, truthfully, they’d been much more than friends.

Oh. But I thought you took her to the senior prom?

I did, Ben said evenly, for that one night only.

I thought you and Marge were an item in high school, Carl said.

We were, Ben said.

Stephanie cocked an eyebrow at him. And?

Marge broke up with me the night before prom, so I asked my best friend to go to the prom with me.

Helena?

Yeah, and then Marge suddenly decided she wanted to make up with me, but I didn’t go back to her right away. I decided if Marge could dump me, well, then, I could dump her right back.

Huh, Stephanie said. I don’t remember this story.

I didn’t discuss it too much at the time, Ben said. I was pretty angry with Marge. A tingling awareness, a profound sadness, seeped into his bones.

Helena, wow. He hadn’t thought of Helena in he couldn’t remember how many years. He remembered her smile . . . the way the sun shone behind her head, casting her red hair in a radiant glow of fire—

Did you ever think, Stephanie said slowly, how your life would’ve turned out differently if you and Helena had stayed a couple?

Stephanie, Carl said in a warning voice.

Sorry, Stephanie said, abashed.

It’s okay, Ben said. And really, it was okay. He wondered the same thing. And now, as he reflected on it, he suddenly realized why he’d made Marge wait.

I wanted to see what Helena would do.

He’d left it open to her; he’d let her decide. Did she want to resume their friendship . . . or did she want something more?

He’d left it all up to her.

He knew what he’d wanted; to marry her, make her his wife, but he knew how smart she was, how much she longed to kick the dust of Marietta off her heels and take off for the flashy lights of the big cities. He wasn’t surprised when he learned she’d fled Marietta for Washington; he’d figured it would’ve been either that, or New York City. Somewhere big.

And so, she’d left him behind, and that had been her answer.

No, I don’t want to marry you, Ben.

A flood of memories spilled through him, and he lost himself to his past. Why did he and Helena part? They never sat down and engaged in a serious discussion about their future; he regretted this now, not opening his heart up to her. Uneasiness rippled through him.

Oh, will you look at that, Stephanie said.

What? Ben asked, curious despite himself.

Why, Helena’s got a daughter.

Oh, really? Carl asked. Well, and who’s Helena married to?

Hmm, Stephanie mused, studying the paper. I don’t see any mention of a husband.

He’s probably one of those super-private kinds of husbands, Carl said. The kind who doesn’t live for the spotlight.

The daughter’s a teen, Stephanie said.

Wow, Ben said, startled out of his reverie. Really?

Yes, her daughter—looks like she’s only got the one—is named Carrie, and she’s sixteen years old.

A dissonance of tension flitted down Ben’s spine. He cocked his head at Stephanie. For real?

Yes, for real.

If my math’s correct, Carl said, that means Helena had her baby when she was eighteen years old.

God, that’s strange, Stephanie said. She got pregnant right out of high school? She threw her head back and laughed. That sure doesn’t sound like the Helena Roethlisberger I knew.

No, Ben said, it doesn’t sound like the Helena I remember at all.

Anyway, Stephanie said finally, folding up